


Inquisition Shorts

by xxMad_Donaxx



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'm going to put the short fics I write for DAI. Each chapter will stand alone, pairings and possible warnings at the beginning of each.</p><p>Big spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matchmaking While Dragon Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> Blackwall/Female Cadash, Dorian/Iron Bull  
> Fluff

Inquisitor Cadash waded through the swampy area in the Exalted Plains where a dragon had been spotted. The Iron Bull and Blackwall both ranged a ways ahead. The Qunari was entirely more eager to face this dragon than she thought was sane.

“You take me to such fascinating places,” Dorian said disdainfully a short distance behind her. “This muck is never going to come out of my boots.”

She snorted and turned. “At least you’re not ass deep in it.”

“Go through a lot of boots and pants do you?” he said with a smirk. “Poor Josephine.”

Cadash shook her head and trudged ahead. Large rocks rose out of the shallow water all around her. Bushes struggled to grow on the humps of land dotted here and there and she headed for one wanting to get out of the waist deep water. They heard a roar overhead and a dark shape blotted out the sun for a moment.

“There she is!” Bull hollered excitedly. “Come on!”

“Remind me why I agreed to do this,” Dorian said his gaze on the sky where the dragon had been moments before.

“Because you have a thing for horns and large guys,” Cadash said glancing over her shoulder.

Her foot slid on a wet rock and she teetered backwards. She waved her arms trying to catch her balance. There was suddenly a steadying hand on her shoulder, saving her from a complete drenching in the muddy water.

“You’re not exactly instilling me with confidence,” Dorian said wryly as she stepped up onto dry land.

“Thanks,” she said evenly. “Stay away from the head and you’ll be fine.”

Cadash turned to her warriors, both ahead of them but looking back as they waited. Bull was further, looking very impatient. Blackwall was closer and she couldn’t see his concerned frown but knew it was there. She smiled and waved as she started forwards. He nodded briefly and turned back towards the Iron Bull.

“Shall we go kill a dragon?” Cadash said cheerfully.

“Why not,” Dorian said falling into step beside her. “I’d hate to have ruined my boots for nothing.”

***

Cadash sat wearily down on one large claw of the now deceased dragon. She stuck her daggers in the ground between her feet and took a deep breath. It had been a rough battle that she would be feeling for days to come. She scrubbed her face, wincing at the soreness already setting in.

Nearby Dorian leaned wearily on his staff with an amused expression. Following his gaze brought hers to the Bull, who was pacing back and forth in front of the head. He turned every now and then and spoke his voice nothing but an unintelligible rumble from where she sat. Blackwall sunk down beside her and heaved a sigh, watching Bull pace as well.

“It’s obscene how much energy he still has,” Cadash said quietly. “Getting kicked thirty feet certainly didn’t do anything for me.”

“Dorian’s going to have his hands full tonight,” Blackwall said calmly.

“I hope so,” she said glancing over at them. Dorian had gotten a bit closer, nodding and waving a hand at the dragon. “That was the plan at any rate.”

“You killed a dragon so those two would sleep together?” he said incredulously.

“No,” Cadash said calmly. “I killed a dragon to keep her from terrorizing the countryside. Those two…” She shrugged and smirked. “A handy side effect.”

Blackwall chuckled and leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Let’s get back to camp.”

He stood and offered her his hand. Cadash took it and was on her feet seconds later. She pulled her daggers out of the ground and sheathed them, tired and sore but pleased as she followed Blackwall.


	2. Stolen Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Cadash/Blackwall
> 
> Spoilers for Blackwall's personal quests.

One word, two little letters, no. It was both the best and worst moment of Blackwall’s new life. He knew his past would catch up to him eventually and he dreads that moment now. What had begun as innocent flirting with Karina Cadash had quickly escalated. Before he realized she had become firmly entrenched in his heart. It would end badly and ultimately be his fault but he’d been perfectly honest with her in regards to his feelings. He couldn’t say it, he couldn’t do it but she wouldn’t either. One word and a kiss and he gave up resisting completely.

Stolen moments of bliss, that’s how he thinks of each and every kiss. There have been many since the first in her room; their arms locked around each other, Karina perched on the rail with her legs hooked around his. Anytime she could find a minute away from her duties she’d be down in the stables with him, a coy smile as she leaned against the wall. How could he resist?

Eventually she will want more than kisses. Blackwall is eager for that day but he is also not. It will make his lies and betrayal that much worse. He can’t admit to them yet. The kisses are too sweet, her cause too noble. Until that moment arrives, Blackwall will go where she directs and fight at her side, enjoying what will surely not last.

***

Both moments arrive, one hot on the tail of the other. Karina sleeps peacefully among the hay in the loft. Blackwall lay beside her, agonizing over the pain he will soon cause. He wraps a lock of her reddish brown hair around his finger, wishing he could stay to see her bright green eyes once more. If he is to arrive at Val Royeaux in time to save an innocent man then he must leave now. Perhaps it is for the best.

Carefully he rises and quietly he dresses. He stands over her for a while, committing this moment to memory. It will be nice to think of before he dies, the hangman’s noose snapping his neck, a death far too long in coming. Blackwall kneels down at her side, brushing hair from her cheek. One more kiss, one last stolen moment before the end.

He leaves a note because he can’t bear to abandon her completely. Leaving Skyhold for the last time he resists the urge to look back. There is no point. He will not be returning. This should have been done long ago.

***

Bars separate them now. Blackwall grips them, his hands chained together, and gazes at the filthy floor between his knees. He can’t stand the hurt and anger in her eyes, knowing he caused it.

“This isn’t over,” Karina whispers fiercely.

He looks away, unable to say anything more. It is over. He will pay for his crimes now, as he should have years ago. Blackwall listens to her quick footsteps until a door slams at the end of the hall. Scooting over to sit against the wall he stares at the ceiling and waits.

A couple of days later he wakes from a not so sound sleep by rattling and a hand over his mouth. The door of his cell is open and another man is being dropped to the floor. A dagger at his neck draws his attention as the hooded figure in front of him whispers orders. He stands, suspecting he knows who has sent these two. Blackwall is gagged before one of them swings a cloak over his shoulders. The hood is pulled up, his chained hands covered by the front that is pulled around him.

Blackwall gets a glimpse of the man Karina has sent to die in his place, dressed as he is with a sack tied over his head. Anger wells up within him. Haven’t enough people died for his cowardice? There is little he can do but go where he is led. He will see her again soon but this thought brings only anguish. His fate is in her hands now.

***

He could scarcely believe what she was offering. Not only given a chance to atone, something he thought had died with the real Blackwall, but her love as well. Unsure of who he really is, Thom Rainier, Warden Blackwall or perhaps a little of both, he ascends the steps. The only thing he is sure of at the moment is his love for her, a beautiful understanding woman with her own checkered past.

“You were ready to die,” Karina says stepping forwards to the edge of the platform. “But I couldn’t let go.”

Leaning down he feels her hands at his cheeks. Their lips meet. He feels the flutter he always has, the excitement and happiness that she’d chosen him of all people. He knows there will be many more as he pulls away. Moments that are no longer stolen, happiness that is offered freely despite his past lies and deception. Blackwall turns away from her smiling face, his hands still bound in chains but his back straight, determined to become the man she deserves.


	3. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Cadash/Blackwall
> 
> After the dream bit with Solas in Haven it sort of irked me how calm and collected my dwarf inquisitor was about the whole thing. So, here's why.

Karina Cadash bolted upright, chest heaving, eyes darting everywhere and her hands fisted in the sheets. She yanked on them and shook her head, trying to clear it. Next to her Blackwall sat up and rubbed his eyes briefly.

“What’s wrong love?” he asked sleepily but concerned.

“I don’t know,” she laughed. It was a high frightened sound that only unnerved her further. Swallowing hard she forced herself to stop and took a deep breath. “I was talking to Solas.”

“When?”

“Just now. First in that tower he spends a lot of time in then… Haven.”

“Haven?” Blackwall said frowning. “We haven’t been back since the avalanche. It’s buried.”

“I know. Stupid right? We were talking. Then he… said we’d talk more later. After I woke up.”

Blackwall’s frown deepened. “Were you actually dreaming?”

 _“Dwarves don’t dream,”_ Karina said shrilly. She shook her head again and yanked on the sheets.

“Easy love,” said Blackwall soothingly.

Karina was pulled close and she buried her face in his chest, turning her head slightly to feel the comforting tickle of his beard on her cheek. His arms were around her and slowly her mind cleared as she listened to his soothing murmurs and his fingers running through her hair.

“Do humans and elves dream every night?” she asked when she was certain that her voice wouldn’t shake or rise in a terrified squeak.

“So they say,” he replied calmly. “I don’t remember having dreams every night though.”

She shuddered and felt his arms tighten briefly. “How can you stand that? I never want it to happen again.”

“It’s normal for us,” Blackwall said softly. “We grow up being inspired and terrified by our dreams.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Karina held up her left hand, the anchor glowing faintly for a brief moment. “It’s this isn’t it?”

“Most likely.”

Karina burrowed into his familiar comforting embrace, a little scared to go back to sleep.


	4. Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Female Cadash/Blackwall
> 
> Again, something that bugs me. There's only brief mentions of the dwarf inquisitor being a member of the Carta, a criminal organization. That coupled with how shitty some of the companions are to Blackwall after his shit is revealed... it just makes me crazy that no one cares that their Inquisitor is a criminal and he gets raked over the coals.
> 
> If you disagree with me that's fine but please don't leave hateful comments.

Karina Cadash had listened to the conversations behind her. She always had. Most of the time it was meaningless chatter but there were always nuggets of useful information. What she’d been hearing recently though had her furiously pacing the loft in the stables while the subject of those conversations watched her passively from his seat on a bale of hay. Not all of her closest friends and advisors were treating Blackwall badly but enough of them were that she was irate about it.

No one had been hurt more by his lies than she had been. He had pretended to be something he wasn’t. His crime was heinous and his disappearance after being caught beyond cowardly. She wasn’t disputing any of this. It was their acceptance of her own shifty past that had her fuming. If it weren’t for this stupid mark on her hand she doubted any of them would have associated with her at all.

“What’s wrong Karina?” he asked evenly watching her race across the loft and back.

“Them,” she spat. “So damned self-righteous and judgmental. Like they’ve never lied to anyone or made a mistake in their whole fucking life.”

“I doubt Cassandra has ever told a lie,” Blackwall sighed. “And not all of them are like that. Varric still calls me ‘Hero’ every once in a while even though I’ve asked him not to.”

“Maybe because he knows the difference between what was and what is,” Karina said stopping to stare out the window. “Solas is the worst.”

“They need time,” said Blackwall. “I be…”

“Stop,” Karina said furiously rounding on him. “Stop defending them. All they needed was this to conveniently forget my crimes.” She thrust her left hand out, the anchor glowing. “This gives me a free pass but you get crucified.”

The anchor glowed its sickly green for a moment then died when she closed her fist. She turned back to the window and watched the guards walk back and forth along the battlements. “I’m not Andraste’s prophet. It was the _Divine_ who saved me, not the _Maker’s Bride._ I don’t even believe that shit. I’m a Carta dwarf sent to spy on the Conclave to see which group would come out on top.”

“You’re exactly what they needed,” Blackwall said. “You’ve made tough decisions that no one else wanted to because they didn’t want the responsibility or couldn’t stop arguing about the best course.”

“Do you really think I’ve never killed an innocent person?” she continued quietly. “Set up a patsy to take the fall for our crimes? Sold lyrium to Templars and smuggled it into the same Circle for the mages? I’m not this… good person they all think I am. Why does this make me right for the job?”

Behind her Blackwall sighed and she heard his footsteps on the wooden floorboards. His hands settled on her shoulders.

“No matter what you’ve done in the past,” he said quietly. “You haven’t done it to them. I betrayed everyone.”

Karina squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against him. “Blackwall…”

“Leave it love. They’ll come around or they won’t. You’re the only person I need.”

“All right,” Karina whispered.

Blackwall squeezed her shoulders a moment and she placed one hand on top of his.


	5. Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen/Female Lavellan
> 
> Grief/Mourning, Pre-Relationship, Missing Scene
> 
> I goofed and got her clan wiped out. =(

Lana Lavellan sat halfway up the stone stairs leading to the battlements. The peaked roof of the stables was visible just ahead of her but she didn’t see it. It was unlikely that anyone in the courtyard below would see her but she sat slightly hunched over anyway. Voices drifted up to her but she wasn’t paying any attention to them. Lana stared at her bare feet, full of melancholy, the boots she still wasn’t quite used to sitting on the riser next to her.

She had chosen this spot for a couple of reasons. The stables courtyard had recently been cleared of most rubble and despite being full of people the ones she didn’t want to see wouldn’t be there. Of her close companions Blackwall had settled in the stables for some reason and Cullen had taken residence in the tower behind her. Both of her elven companions would not be all the way out here and she had no real desire to see either of them at the moment.

Sera she only understood about half the time. Lana wasn’t sure how she kept irritating Solas but she accomplished it with startling regularity. Neither elf would likely understand her current despair. That she often didn’t get along with them very well was only making her mood worse. She had no doubts they would be sympathetic to her situation but Lana didn’t really want sympathy.

News of her clan had finally arrived. The Duke Josephine had asked to help had not gotten to them in time. They were dead or scattered and Clan Lavellan was no more. She had known beforehand that she wouldn’t be able to go back to them. They were still out there in the Free Marches however and she had taken solace in that fact. Now there was only despair and loneliness.

Footsteps on the stone stairs behind her didn’t send butterflies through her stomach like his approach normally did. Lana hunched over a little further as they paused, uncertain if she wanted his company even though he was why she had ended up on the stairwell instead of a hidden corner of the courtyard below. Cullen had been a constant source of both comfort and confusion.

“Inquisitor?” he said softly.

The clear concern she heard in his voice warmed her heart a little. “Hello Cullen,” she replied quietly without looking around.

Cullen leaned over and picked up her boots, setting them on the stairs behind her without comment. He sat next to her anxiously fiddling with his sword. “You seem… er… are you all right?”

Lana shook her head wordlessly and continued to stare at the stable roof. After a moment she took a shuddering breath and managed two words before the tears that had threatened all morning finally came. “My clan…”

“I’m so sorry Lana,” Cullen whispered.

She didn’t protest his arm around her, didn’t notice how he tensed for a moment when she turned into him burying her face in the furred collar of his jacket. How long they sat there Lana didn’t know. When her tears were finally spent she slowly became aware of his arm around her, slowly rubbing her shoulder and the comfortable weight of his cheek on her head. Reluctantly she pulled away.

“Thank you,” Lana said scrubbing her eyes.

He smiled and nodded slightly, rubbing her back in a comforting way before resting his arm on his knee. Silence fell and grew a little awkward, neither of them knowing quite what to say or do. Her heart still ached with loss but she felt a little better sitting here on the steps with him.

Cullen cleared his throat nervously. “Can I escort you somewhere?”

“The gardens perhaps,” she said with a small smile. “Would you care for another game?”

“I’d like that,” he replied smiling as he stood.

Lana took his hand and pulled herself up, glad that he hadn’t pressed her for details. They descended the stairs together, close but not quite touching, her boots still sitting on the steps.


	6. No Pants Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian/The Iron Bull
> 
> Crack, Cross-dressing (sort of), Modern AU

The Bull put down the kickstand of his motorcycle and turned the key. He swung his leg over the back and pulled his satchel from the saddlebags. There was nothing more on his mind than turning his report into Cadash and getting his next assignment. The paperwork involved when a job was finished was always the worst part.

He strode purposefully to the elevator that would take him out of the parking garage and up to the Inquisition’s floor of the office building. The Bull pushed the button and ducked inside, standing hunched over so that the tips of his horns wouldn’t get stuck in the ceiling of the elevator. Everything seemed normal on the way up to the twenty-third floor. People got on and off at various floors but it wasn’t until he was headed for his office to make a last minute print out that he noticed something odd.

From the office boy pushing around a cart of supplies to the department heads, men as well as women, elf, dwarf or human, everyone he passed was wearing a skirt. The Bull stopped struggling to maintain his neutral expression when Cullen and Josephine rounded a corner. Their heads were together over a report she held.

“What the hell?” Bull exclaimed loudly.

They stopped short and looked up at him in surprise. Josephine smiled and Cullen flushed a bright red. Her suit was immaculate as always and looked very normal. Cullen wore a white button up shirt, opened at the collar and the cuffs rolled up twice. If it weren’t for the flowing red skirt that reached to mid-calf he would be wearing normal casual Friday attire.

“Did you miss the memo?” Josephine said indicating his pants.

“What memo?” he said irritably. “I’ve been stuck in a bog for the last week.”

“Inquisitor Cadash is waiting for your report,” Cullen said hurriedly.

“It’s…” Josephine started.

“Terribly sorry,” Cullen interrupted hastily. “We have to be going and you have a report to give.”

Cullen hustled Josephine past him and down the hall, muttering under his breath. The Bull shook his head and continued on to his office. By the time he reached it The Iron Bull was very confused and more than a little annoyed. He’d come across more of his coworkers, all in skirts but none would explain why the whole floor was wearing them. Flopping into his chair he tried to concentrate on his computer and the files that he needed for his report.

“Have fun playing in the mud?” Dorian asked from the doorway after a minute or two.

“Dorian…” he began looking up.

The rest of his sentence died in his throat when he saw Dorian leaning on his door jamb. His shirt was typical for casual Friday, dark blue silk, cuffs neatly buttoned at his wrists and two undone at the collar. Instead of the dark slacks that normally would have adorned his bottom half, Dorian wore a dark close fitting skirt that ended just above his knees.

“All right,” the Bull said tersely. He stood and moved around the desk, yanked Dorian inside and slammed the door shut. “What in the fuck is going on around here?”

“No need to get violent,” Dorian said haughtily as he brushed off his shirt. “Throwing me around the room won’t make me any more likely to tell you.”

“You like it when I throw you around,” said the Bull pushing him against the wall next to the door.

“Remember what happened last time,” said Dorian smugly pushing him away with one finger. “As for what’s going on, it was your idea.”

“My Idea?” he said incredulously.

“Open your mail,” Dorian said rolling his eyes. “And all shall become clear.”

The Bull sat at his desk and waited impatiently for the computer to load up.

“Oh dear,” said Dorian looking at his watch. “I’m nearly late for a meeting. Are we still going out tonight?”

“Sure,” he replied distractedly. “I probably won’t leave again until Monday.”

“After work then. Ta.”

He paused a moment to watch Dorian walk out the door thinking that perhaps the skirt wasn’t so terrible. It certainly made his ass pleasant to look at. Shaking his head he finally opened the memo he’d missed while doing fieldwork in the Fallow Mire. Bull sat back and roared with laughter. Today was the first official no pants Friday. It really had been his idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by banter between Bull and Blackwall. I'm not a bit sorry either. =)


	7. After Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Lavellan/Cullen
> 
> Angst and Fluff, Missing Scene

“I really don’t like this place,” Cole said fearfully.

Lana gripped his shoulder briefly and said confidently, “We’ll make it Cole.”

He nodded nervously and wiped sweaty hands on his thighs. She looked at the twisted landscape around her, dark rocks looming above, strange statues dotted throughout along with objects that were out of place. The sky had an odd green cast to it that was not entirely from the rift they could see in the distance. This part of the Fade was terrifying.

Cole may have voiced it but they were all thinking it. Blackwall looked determined but after so many missions together she saw the tightness around his eyes, the way his frown was deeper than usual. Dorian was unusually serious, his normally flip attitude about everything conspicuously absent. Even Hawke and Stroud, whom she didn’t know very well at all, were both ill at ease, snapping at each other like grumpy children.

Her thoughts turned to who was still in Adamant Fortress, the Inquisition soldiers, the sane Wardens and of course Cullen. They fought on not knowing what had happened, depending on her to stop this madness somehow. She closed her eyes and murmured a quick prayer to Mythal. Lana slipped a hand into her pocket. The coin Cullen had given her rested at the bottom. Lana clutched it tightly for a moment, praying that he would be safe. She opened her eyes and startled a little at a hand on her shoulder. Cole offered her a tentative smile.

“We helped the soldiers,” he said softly. “The soldiers will help him.”

Lana smiled briefly and nodded. “Let’s hurry.”

***

The chilly air and blowing sand stinging her cheeks were pleasant after the Fade. Adamant Fortress was in shambles and Lana agreed with Cole, it should be completely torn down. She hoped that she could explain to Cole why she hadn’t banished the rest of the Wardens. They had hurt many people but Corypheus had deceived and hurt them first. The remaining Wardens were willing to try and atone for Clarel’s terrible decision.

Her mind was not on Cole however. She was not thinking of how to explain or even thank him for that little bit of encouragement. In the aftermath of the battle things had been hectic. Lana only had a glimpse of Cullen before duty pulled them in different directions. With the sun well below the horizon and stars glittering overhead her only thoughts were seeing him and holding him tightly.

Lana made her way through the mostly sleeping camp to his tent only to find him still accepting reports and giving orders. He looked weary, almost as tired as she felt herself. She watched him from a distance, examining his movements for hesitation that might be caused by pain. There was a bandage wound around his arm and she fretted silently over it. Unable to stand any more delay after watching him rub his temples she strode forward.

“I’m sorry,” Lana said firmly to the two scouts still standing in front of him. “Commander Cullen must rest. I’m sure these reports can wait until morning.”

The two men glanced at him and bowed shallowly to her. “Of course Your Worship,” one of them said evenly. They turned away and she wondered briefly how long it would be before this bit of gossip had spread through the barracks.

“Lana,” Cullen said softly.

Before he could say anything more she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his chest. His arms encircled her moments later holding her tight to him. Lana stood in his solid warm embrace and murmured another prayer to Mythal, this one of thanks. She felt his lips pressed briefly to her forehead.

“Thank the Maker you’re safe,” Cullen whispered. “I feared the worst…”

“As did I,” Lana replied.

She gripped the cloth of his jacket in her fists and held him tighter, feeling his cheek resting on her head.


	8. I'll Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male Adaar, Dorian Pavus
> 
> This guy is a sword and shield warrior and I just couldn't resist a peek into his head. =)

“I’m here. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

Is this guy serious, Locke Adaar thought incredulously. He was at least a foot taller than the Tevinter mage and a good deal wider through the chest and shoulders. If Dorian Pavus could remain still and quiet standing directly behind him, Locke doubted that anyone would even know the mage was there. And he’s going to protect me, he thought.

The image of this mage rushing the Venatori guards they’d no doubt run into down here nearly pulled a snort of laughter from him. Instead Locke inclined his head slightly and said evenly, “Let’s go.”

The heavy armor Locke wore clanked in the quiet hallways, clearly audible when they stepped out of the large pool of water they’d appeared in. He shook the drips off of his head, the curling horns at the sides preventing most common headgear. Dorian followed quietly behind. The cells were full of red lyrium and one mage he thought he’d spoken to who had clearly gone mad. They climbed stairs and walked through hallways, finding more of the red lyrium.

In a room with what looked like net flooring with gaps along the sides they finally came across guards, one at a door on either side. He pulled his kite shield and drew his long sword, rushing at the one to his right. Having fought with mages before, the man bursting into flame didn’t bother Locke in the slightest. He simply ran the man through while he was trying to put himself out. Turning around he found the other guard with his sword drawn and approaching Dorian quickly, he hadn’t left the doorway.

Locke roared and hurried back, drawing the guard’s attention away from the mage. A bolt of lightning suddenly descended from the ceiling, striking the guard and leaving him momentarily paralyzed before he could get there. Locke swatted the still stunned guard over the side of the strange floor with his shield. He straightened and found Dorian aiming a smug smirk at him, attaching his staff to his back.

“Shall we continue?” Dorian said gesturing at the door to his left.

He sheathed his sword and grinned briefly. Maybe this arrogant mage could protect him after all.


	9. Denials and Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus
> 
> Missing scene, angst, spoilers for Dorian's gift quest, a seriously drunk Dorian
> 
> Again, a little inconsistency that bugged me. Dorian is furious after that whole deal in Val Royeaux with his amulet but when you get back to Skyhold everything's hunky dory until you actually get the amulet and give it to him. Now why is that? I'd be pretty pissed at Dorian for saying that we weren't friends and then not saying the rest. Then just flat refusing to talk about the whole thing? Argh. So here's how Locke deals with it.

Locke stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the main hall of Skyhold. Stars glittered overhead on this clear night but he didn’t appreciate them. He was too preoccupied with Dorian. The trip to Val Royeaux they’d just returned from hadn’t gone quite as expected. Dorian had been angry with him for doing what he’d been told not to in the first place. He was furious that Locke had agreed to get the weasel that had Dorian’s birthright amulet into that exclusive merchant’s club or whatever it had been.

He’d already spoken with Josephine and the amulet should be arriving at Skyhold within the month. That should be plenty of time to figure out exactly why his boyfriend was furious with him and hopefully fix it. Locke was having a hard time of it because he was rather angry too. Dorian had heatedly stated that they weren’t friends in the middle of the market then refused to say what they actually were.

At times Dorian could be a horrible flirt with just about anyone. This didn’t bother Locke nor did his need to keep the exact nature of their relationship private. He understood that Dorian’s preference for men was a sensitive issue. What he didn’t understand was why the occasional public flirting was all right but admitting what everyone in Skyhold already knew was not. It was the denial that they were at the very least friends that had him irked.

Staring up at the Keep, Locke scowled. He was tired of thinking about it and he turned on his heels and headed for the tavern planning to get roaring drunk. It was crowded and noisy and he waved to Krem in the corner on his way to the bar. Locke grimaced at another rendition of ‘Sera’ from the minstrel by the stairs. He tuned out the music and continued on, sighing when the far end of the bar came into view. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought getting drunk was a good way to forget for a while. He scratched at the stubble on his cheeks and veered over.

Dorian didn’t move from his slouch, chin resting on one hand, eyes half open, his fist curled around a mug as Locke sat beside him. He waved to the dwarf behind the bar, making a mental note to talk to him later and find out where Flissa went. A mug of thick brown liquid was set in front of him. Locke took a long pull and made a disgusted noise at the terrible taste.

“Awful isn’t it,” said Dorian slowly. “The taste grows on you after a while though.”

“Does it get the job done?” Locke asked looking over at him.

“Most definitely,” he replied with a smirk. “I wouldn’t… recommend it however. My tummy isn’t very happy with me.”

“How many have you had?” Locke asked curiously.

“Five?” Dorian said frowning with his brows pulled down in concentration. “Eight… possibly?” He waved a hand in dismissal and tried to sit upright, wavering dangerously. Locke put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and keep him from falling backwards. “I lost count.”

“You’re surprisingly lucid for eight pints of… whatever this is.”

“Practice.” Dorian smiled smugly and turned on the stool, once more threating to overbalance and tip off of his seat and onto the floor. He waved away Locke’s hand this time however. “Quite all right. Just need to find a privy. Back in a moment.”

Locke watched him totter away and sighed. “He’s more upset than I thought,” he muttered.

Sullenly he finished his mug, watching for Dorian. He finished a second pint thinking that it wasn’t quite as bad as the first had been. Dorian still hadn’t returned and Locke finished off what was left in his mug before throwing some coin on the counter. He went in search of the mage, thoroughly looking on all three floors. Locke checked the room that led to the battlements and still didn’t see him. Now thoroughly irritated, he walked along the high walls back towards the Keep. If his company was that bad then he’d find something alcoholic that tasted better and pass out in his room.

By chance he glanced over and saw a familiar figure sitting on the ground leaning against the back of the tavern. Frowning he angled towards the nearest stair case and headed down. He found Dorian curled up and sleeping peacefully. Locke growled in frustration and scrubbed his face.

“Fucking irritating, arrogant, smart ass mage,” he snarled. Locke squatted down next to him and sighed as he lightly brushed grass from his hair. “And I can’t leave you out here.”

Carefully Locke worked his arms under Dorian’s knees and around his shoulders. He easily lifted the unconscious mage and started off towards the Keep. Halfway up the stairs to the main doors he realized that he had no idea where Dorian’s room actually was. Locke considered leaving him in his favorite chair in the library but discarded the idea quickly. Dorian was going to be miserable enough when he woke.

“There goes my comfortable bed,” he mumbled.

Locke continued up the stairs stopping at the doors to shift Dorian so he could open one of them. He hitched the mage’s shoulders a little higher and stopped when his eyes popped open. They were bloodshot and bleary, barely able to focus on him and they closed quickly.

“Locke…” Dorian croaked sleepily.

“Yeah,” he said hitching him up again. “Go back to sleep.”

Dorian threw an arm over his shoulder and nuzzled into his other one. He was snoring softly seconds later. Locke sighed as he pushed the door open with his foot after unlatching it. While it was rather comforting that Dorian trusted him enough to simply go back to sleep he was still highly annoyed with him.

Carrying him to the back of the hall, Locke opened the door to his room and kicked it shut behind him. He deposited Dorian carefully on his bed and sat on the very edge, watching as he rolled onto his side.

“All right,” Locke whispered brushing gently at his hair. “You win this round. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

He grabbed the pillow unoccupied by Dorian as he stood. Locke toed off his boots and left them at the end of the bed. He settled on the floor a short distance away and stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to Dorian’s steady breathing, still irritated but willing to be patient.


	10. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus
> 
> angst

Adamant Fortress was far behind them but they were still in the desolate expanse of the Western Approach. Locke sat on his bedroll, knees raised with his forearms resting on them. Dorian was sprawled beside him, both of them completely naked. The blanket was tangled around the mage’s feet pushed there during the almost frantic love making that had come before. While Dorian drifted off, exhausted and sated but not peaceful, Locke remained awake.

Dorian whimpered softly, rolling to his side. He pulled his legs up close to his body. His hands clutched tightly at the bedding beneath them. Locke gently brushed at his hair with one large hand, smoothing it down from the tangles his tossing and turning had created. It had been like this for the last two nights. Dorian slept restlessly and Locke hardly slept at all.

“I’m here,” Locke whispered over and over until his hands had relaxed and his expression softened from its pinched frown.

As usual Dorian didn’t want to talk about what was troubling him. Unlike every other issue the mage had avoided Locke was secretly pleased this time. He suspected it involved what had happened at Adamant and he was having his own difficulty dealing with the issue. His problem wasn’t with the outcome. The Wardens would make killing all of the demons that had wandered from the rifts they had fallen out of quicker and easier. It wasn’t regaining the memories of what had actually happened at the conclave or even the soldiers the Inquisition had lost during the fighting.

Both Hawke and Alistair had volunteered to stay behind to distract the nightmare. Locke had chosen Hawke because the Wardens were necessary. Corypheus had duped them into making a terrible decision but the simple fact was they were needed to fight the darkspawn. Saving the world now would mean nothing if it fell to the blight later because there were no Grey Wardens to stop it.

What he saw in his mind every time he closed his eyes was Varric’s accusatory glare when Locke had told him Hawke had remained in the Fade, the desperate grief he’d glimpsed as the dwarf turned away. Locke could deal with these guilty stabs of conscious. He was a mercenary. Injuries and death were unavoidable when one lived by the sword. Hopefully Varric would forgive him.

It was what he’d broken that kept him awake at night and how easily it could happen to him. Somewhere in the Free Marches there was an elf waiting for a man that would never come back. Locke knew only what he’d read and the few things Hawke had mentioned in conversations about Fenris. That little bit of information was enough to know one would have cheerfully died for the other to save them.

Locke looked down at him as Dorian shifted again, curling up into a tight ball. He gently freed the blanket and pulled it up over him, tucking it carefully under his chin, unable to stop the image of the Tevinter mage grieving over him. On the heels of that image was Dorian broken and bloody and he shuddered.

There was no solution. Injuries and death were unavoidable. Corypheus had to be stopped and Dorian understood the danger as well as he did. He was a talented and capable mage who wouldn’t appreciate being left behind at Skyhold every time a dangerous mission came up. Locke had come to enjoy fighting with Dorian and didn’t want to give up that thrill of working together any more than Dorian would like being stuck in Skyhold all the time. All he could do was exactly what he had been, depend on his teammates and do his best to keep them all alive.

He sighed and shuffled around until he lay on his side, a pillow wadded up under his neck. Locke pulled the blanket over him and scooted forward until he could feel Dorian’s breath on his chest, holding him until his eyes eventually drifted shut.


	11. Duty and Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Lavellan/Cullen
> 
> Lana and Cullen get cock blocked.

Sometimes it was difficult to find a moment alone. Their duties often conflicted with their desires but Lana and Cullen managed. Having escaped yet another Revered Mother intent on taking her spymaster and Seeker, Lana hurried up to his tower and sighed in relief when she found him alone bent over paperwork on his desk. Cullen looked up as she entered and shut the door behind her.

“May I borrow you for a while?” Lana said smiling.

“Please do,” Cullen sighed leaning back in his chair. “My hand is cramping from writing reports all day.”

Lana strolled over and straddled his lap, taking his right hand in both of hers. She settled on his legs and kissed his fingers, the small of her back just brushing the edge of his desk. “I think I’d prefer reports to insistent Mother’s.”

“Are they still trying to take Leliana and Cassandra?” Cullen asked in amazement.

“I’m thinking of putting my support behind Cassandra,” Lana said nodding. “Maybe then they’ll stop pestering me for them.”

“Maybe,” said Cullen. He smiled and ran his hands up her thighs to her arse, pulling her closer. “Let’s not talk about work.”

“I agree,” she said. Lana leaned over working the buttons on her shirt. Their lips met, softly and briefly. “I’d rather not talk at all,” she said against his lips. “Moaning and panting would be better.”

“As you wish my Lady,” Cullen whispered slipping his hands underneath her shirt.

Their lips met again, harder and more demanding, her mouth open and inviting. He ran his hands up her back and undid the catch on her breast band before slipping his tongue through her lips. It fell loose and she pulled it off, dropping it to the floor beside them. Lana ran her hands through his short hair while their tongues danced, feeling his manhood awaken beneath her. Cullen slid his hands down her back to her hips, encouraging her to roll them.

Lana pulled away and moved against his hardening length, her hand moving down his chest to work open his coat. Cullen hummed happily and ran his hands up her sides, thumbs caressing the side swell of her breasts. She paused to let him push her shirt off then scooted backwards enough to unbuckle his belt and unlace his trousers. Cullen cupped her breasts, pinching her stiff nipples slightly between his fingers. She sucked in a breath and arched her back into his hands, pausing briefly in her task.

They kissed again when she freed his cock. Their tongues slid together as his hands drifted down to her trousers. Slowly she stroked him, pushing aside more of his coat so she could see and feel more of his skin. He tugged open her pants, his hands slipping underneath them to grip her arse. Lana was about to stand and rid herself of them when the door creaked open.

She yelped in surprise and curled up on him, hoping to shield the important bits of their semi-nakedness. His arms went around her back, one hand pressing her head gently to his shoulder.

“Oh Maker,” said a nervous voice from the doorway. “A thousand pardons Commander, Inquisitor.”

“Did you need something soldier?” Cullen asked irritably.

“Err… I have a message,” said the soldier. “From Ambassador Montilyet. She uhh… requests your immediate presence. Umm… both of you… Sers.”

“Is it about Lord what his name?” Lana groaned. “I completely forgot about the dinner for him tonight.”

“Tell Josephine we’ll be there shortly,” Cullen sighed.

“Yes Commander,” the soldier said.

Seconds later the door slammed shut and Lana slumped. “I suppose we’d better get dressed.”

“Yes,” said Cullen. He kissed her softly, quickly and entirely too chastely for her tastes at the moment. “She probably wants to discuss dress and conduct.”

“She’s going to make me wear those boots again,” Lana said scowling.

“Probably,” said Cullen smiling. “We can go to your quarters afterwards though. That door we can lock.”

“Right afterwards,” Lana said climbing off of his lap. “I hate those things. Why are humans obsessed with boots that come up to your thighs anyway?”

“Some of us humans don’t care for them either,” Cullen said dryly. “I’d prefer a normal _short_ pair of boots.”

“We’ll have fun taking them off at least,” Lana said smiling.

“Of course,” Cullen said also smiling.

He leaned over and kissed her again, brushing his thumb against her nipple as he did. Lana pulled him into a hug wishing duty wasn’t quite so demanding.


	12. What's Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus
> 
> Fluff
> 
> A short discussion of the differences in sleeping comforts between Locke and Dorian.

“The only good thing,” Dorian said as he ducked into their tent. “About being in the middle of nowhere.” He grunted as he sunk down onto their bedroll, grimaced then began working on his boots. “Is that no one is looking for you at all hours of the day.”

Locke grinned as he sat next to him. “It’s not that bad. Fresh air and sunshine are good for you.”

“I like my skin the shade it is thank you,” Dorian said flatly. “And I prefer air that doesn’t smell quite so much like rot and shit.”

“That was bad,” Locke said frowning.

The Exalted Plains were already a mess from the fighting between Celene and Gaspard. Once you added in demons, Venatori, Red Templars and the Freeman it was a large, smelly, confusing pit of despair. Finding all of the body pits on the ramparts had been a grim task but it was finished. He planned on heading to the river garrison to see why they hadn’t reported in the morning but for now there was only the lure of his pillow.

“And then there’s this,” said Dorian upending his boot. A rock fell out on to his waiting palm and he held it out to Locke. “I think I prefer sand. It hurts a bit less.”

“Either is better than wading through that marsh,” Locke said plucking the rock from his hand. He tossed it towards the door and leaned back on his elbows. “Smell aside, this is what I’m used to. My room in Skyhold is too big. Too comfortable.”

“You like getting stabbed by rocks and being subjected to foul weather?” Dorian said incredulously.

“No,” Locke said smirking. “I said this is what I’m used to. Only a fool would like a rock stabbing into their ass all night.”

“Since you’re clearly not that foolish care to explain how a bed can be too comfortable?” Dorian said arching an eyebrow. He lay on his side next to Locke, his head propped up on one hand. “Personally I don’t think such a thing is possible.”

“You’ve been sleeping on feather stuffed mattresses all of your life,” Locke said evenly. “For most of my adult life a cot that my feet hung off of when I stretched out was luxury. Even as a kid my mattress was straw. Sleeping on something soft is still a novelty for me.”

Dorian shook his head and smiled after a moment. “As fascinating as this is, I believe we’ve gotten off track.” He sat up and swung his leg over Locke’s midsection. “I merely wanted to point out that there are fewer interruptions.”

“Which is definitely a good thing,” Locke said grinning.

He shifted his weight to one side and grabbed a handful of fabric at Dorian’s chest, pulling him down until their lips met. Dorian’s hands ended up on his chest as their tongues slid together. He pushed Locke flat after a moment.

“Brute,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

“You should put me in my place,” Locke whispered still grinning.

“Perhaps in a moment,” said Dorian casually. He scooted back slightly, lay atop him and hummed contentedly. “I could just sleep here. You’re much more comfortable than this thin bedroll. And warmer.”

Locke chuckled and wrapped his arms around the mage.


	13. Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Lavellan/Cullen, Dorian Pavus/Iron Bull
> 
> Angst
> 
> Dorian comforts Lana one night in the Emerald Graves.

Lana sat on her feet towards the back of the tent. She knelt in front of a basin of water, rag in hand and nothing on besides her small clothes. The giant trees of the Emerald Graves were making her homesick and she was trying to distract herself from thinking of her clan. Cleaning the sweat and dirt off wasn’t doing much for her state of mind but she smelled decidedly better.

As distracted as she was she didn’t hear Dorian until he began cursing in his native tongue. She wrapped her arms around herself, unsure if she’d rather laugh or cry at being half naked and interrupted yet again, and turned her head. He was facing the other direction, holding the tent flaps closed.

“A little warning would have been nice,” he said irritably. “It’s quite easy. You say, Dorian I’m going to wash up. Scratch on the tent flap before you just barge in.”

She laughed in spite of her blue mood as she reached for her pack. “I’m sorry Dorian. I wasn’t thinking.” Lana pulled out the first shirt she grabbed and pulled it over her head as she continued. “You do realize why the soldiers insist we share a tent.”

“Oh yes,” Dorian said sarcastically. “Maker forbid you bunk with Varric or Blackwall. Even though one seems as interested in seeing what’s under your armor as I am and the other is much more interested in your ambassador. It wouldn’t be an issue if you brought Cassandra or Sera a little more often.”

“They mean well,” she said. “And I do bring Sera and Cassandra. Just not normally when you’re with me.”

“Do you and the Commander stay up at night and plan these little parties?” Dorian asked suspiciously.

“Of course not,” Lana said absently looking down at the shirt sleeves covering her hands. One shoulder was bare, poking through the neck of one of Cullen’s shirts. The front was open a good ways down her chest. It didn’t do much in the way of modesty but she’d already forgotten why she’d put the shirt on in the first place.

“Inquisitor,” said Dorian sounding exasperated. “I believe that one is a size or three too large.”

“Do you miss him?” she asked quietly pushing up the shirt sleeves. “When you’re out here and he’s back there?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “Actually. I do.”

“Do you still get homesick?”

“All the time.”

“How do always seem so…put together?”

“Because you must never show weakness.” He knelt behind her and gingerly brought the edge of the collar up her shoulder to her neck then pulled the edges together over her chest. His arms came around her shoulders and she could feel his chin resting lightly on top of her head. “The rest of the pack will tear you to pieces without a second thought.”

Lana gripped his arms and closed her eyes, imagining for just a moment it was Cullen holding her rather than Dorian. She sighed and leaned back a little against him. “But I miss them. I want to cry in his shoulder like...”

“My shoulders aren’t furry like our dear Commanders but… you’re welcome to cry on them just the same. I’m sure he’d understand.”

She turned in his arms and wept silent tears for her dead clan and her far away lover. Dorian held her quietly, his cheek against her head, a thumb rubbing her shoulder occasionally.


	14. Death and Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babies!!!!! Just because I can and I don't even have to bullshit it! =D
> 
> Female Lavellan/Cullen
> 
> Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy, Serious Spoilers for 'What Pride Had Wrought'

Lana only began to suspect when her pants grew tight. She had been so focused on preparation and the journey to the Arbor wilds she hadn’t noticed what should have happened but didn’t for the last two months. Even then she dismissed it as just weight gain from the extra helpings she’d been eating, still not thinking of her two missed menstrual flows. It wasn’t until a week or so before they arrived at their destination that Cullen brought her attention to another change that she had been oblivious to, her breasts were slightly larger.

It finally all started to add up and she was overjoyed for a precious few moments. Then the horror of what they were about to do, what she would be called on to accomplish, had completely terrified her. Lana wanted to tell him she was carrying his child but the danger they were walking into stopped her. Cullen needed to be focused and worrying about her and his unborn baby would only distract him.

Instead she confided in Cassandra. She was understandably concerned but agreed that the news must not be spread at the moment. They went to the Iron Bull and Varric, the other members of her inner circle that would be fighting alongside her. Bull seemed happy for her and Cullen but disappointed that he couldn’t spread the news. Varric also agreed to remain silent and all three agreed to keep a close eye on her in the battles to come.

The night before they arrived at the Temple Lana could hardly sleep. She clung to him and prayed for his safety. Despite the reason they were here she couldn’t help but be excited. There was great knowledge here and she was eager to keep it from Corypheus. Lana couldn’t share that knowledge with her clan but there were many other clans who would benefit.

Cullen left early, after a brief hug and a chaste peck on the lips. She watched him go, a hand on her stomach and once more praying for his safety. Hours later Lana was embroiled in her own battles. Varric didn’t stray more than a few feet from her side and both warriors were ferocious. They met briefly outside the Temple gates and Cullen urged her onward, promising none would get past him.

Lana was fascinated with all of the artifacts and mosaics they found. She pressed on knowing how imperative stopping Samson was. All three of her companions grumbled a little at her insistence of following the rituals to get further into the Temple but they were no less deadly for it. Abelas and his Sentinels offered an alliance which she readily agreed to. It was troubling that he would rather destroy the Well of Sorrows rather than letting anyone have the knowledge it contained.

They met Samson just outside of the Well. Lana used the rune Dagna had given her but the battle was still rough. She could only hope the baby was all right as they hurried after Abelas. He was convinced to spare the well but Lana now had a difficult decision. Either she or Morrigan had to drink from the water. As much as she wanted to the risks were too great. She’d lost her clan and the thought of losing Cullen or the baby because she would be bound to Mythal would be too much for her to bear.

Morrigan drank from the water and they made it through the Eluvian moments before Corypheus. Lana waited impatiently for Cullen to return. While she waited Josephine and Dorian were added to the few who knew she was pregnant along with the healer who examined her. The baby was doing fine at nearly four months along. Josephine and Dorian worked at finding her suitable armor that would still offer protection while working around the small but definite curve of her belly. When Cullen and his small party was spotted coming up the pass Lana waited by the gates.

Lana waited only long enough for him to order Samson taken to the dungeons. She pulled him away before anyone else could to the first place he’d ever held her, the stairwell leading up to his office. She hugged him fiercely before pulling him down to sit.

“I have something to tell you,” she said turning slightly to see him.

“Is everything all right?” he asked in concern.

“Yes… and no.”

“Lana…”

“Cullen,” she interrupted caressing his cheek. “I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” he repeated questioningly. “As in… a baby?”

“Yes,” Lana said smiling. “Your baby.”

“Oh… Dear Maker.” Cullen smiled after a moment and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. “How far along?”

“Best guess fourteen weeks. I’m already showing. Human babies are bigger than elven babies.”

“There’s still Corypheus,” he sighed after a brief pause. “He’s been spotted in Haven with that false archdemon.”

“Cullen…”

“I know Lana.”

He kissed her forehead, one hand rubbing her arm and the other seeking out that small curve. Corypheus still had to be dealt with and Lana would see him dead. All was lost otherwise.

***

The celebration going on downstairs wouldn’t miss them. Lana stood on her balcony looking at the clear sky. Cullen stood quietly behind her, a hand on her growing belly, both hoping they would feel their baby kick soon.


End file.
